


A Single Slip

by wooden_turtle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bellamione Cult Ilvermorny Cup, Bellatrix Lives, Gen, Post-Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 19:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20013739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wooden_turtle/pseuds/wooden_turtle
Summary: Hermione Granger and Bellatrix Black Lestrange have a chat about fitting (and not fitting) into society. Open ending.





	A Single Slip

They were sitting next to each other, close but not so that they would be touching. Physical comfort felt wrong at the moment. The sun was setting, and the room was rather dark since they hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights.

“I don’t understand,” said Hermione. She felt rather hollow inside, her usual fierceness replaced by first, disbelief and next, numbness.

“You wouldn’t,” Bellatrix answered, but there was no bite to it. She turned her head to look at the girl, and her eyes were caring but also very, very tired. Hermione wasn’t sure she’d ever seen the witch look like that.

“How come they up and renounce me? A week ago, they called me their hero. Today…” She dragged her shoe across the newspaper lying on the floor. Its headline said, _Golden Girl Turned Traitor? New Undesirable No. 2 To Go With Lestrange_. Beneath it, a black and white Hermione was scowling. To be honest, Hermione herself was feeling rather grayscale, too.

Bellatrix was silent.

“I didn’t even _do_ anything. I just… it’s in the laws, their own laws for god’s sake. All I did is said you deserved a trial. All I asked was that they be juster than the very doctrine they were fighting.”

She had said some more after that but it was rather tame compared to their initial response.

Bellatrix sighed. She was hearing this for about the fifth time since they had sat on this couch, and while she couldn’t think of a good answer, perhaps it was time to give the best one she had.

“Listen, girl,” she said in an even voice. She crossed the distance between them with her hand and placed it on Hermione’s sleeve, just above her wrist. The weight of her touch was grounding, and Hermione was grateful for that.

“I won’t say I know why this is the way it is, because I don’t, but here’s what I do know. Our _precious_ ,” she grimaced, "Wizarding society, or any society for that matter, abides by its rules, and it will do anything and everything to enforce them. As a member, you have a rather narrow lane to navigate. If you push it, if you start to stray—if you become unpredictable—they’re going to get pissed, maybe try to make you behave because they start to fear you.

“But when you take that step? When you leave your lane and start to make your own rules? That’s it, girl. You never get to take that back. You’re gone, ostracized, you just don’t exist anymore for all they care. Too unpredictable. Too volatile. Too _insane_.” She sneered, and her hand clutched Hermione’s sleeve a bit tighter.

Hermione didn’t respond for a while. When she did, it was with the same numb calmness.

"I always knew that, you know. I knew something didn’t add up in me as far as others were concerned. When I was in primary school, before Hogwarts, they used to look at me like… like I was alien. I was too intense for them, I didn’t think like they did. I was just skirting their limits of acceptable.

“When I got my letter, I thought it was like that because I was a witch. That it would become better in Hogwarts. Except it didn’t, not really; I’ve found friends, my grades were good, yeah, but I didn’t fit in there either. I pretended I did, others pretended I did, but we all knew it wasn’t true.” She cringed. “That it would only take a single slip…” She fell silent.

“Seems you were just a bit luckier than me”, Bellatrix answered. At Hermione’s questioning look, she added, “I never got that benefit of doubt.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed, and she felt some of her usual fierce protectiveness scrape at the walls of ice currently making up the inside of her mind. “This is wrong. No one should live through this.”

She felt another squeeze upon her wrist. Something shifted, and she turned her gaze from the remains of the Prophet. She met Bellatrix’s eyes, still undeniably tired and yet alive with, it seemed, more intensity than she had ever seen in a human being. They were slightly narrowed, watchful, dark, and, unquestionably, very intelligent. The trademark madness was nowhere to be found, confirming the woman’s earlier words—and Hermione’s own suspicions. It should have been intimidating, but Hermione didn’t feel scared at all.

“Even me, girl?”

Her voice was just a bit too husky and her grip on Hermione’s arm just a bit too tight for the nonchalance with which she asked her question. Hermione looked back at her, never dropping her gaze, and there was no doubt when she answered, “Even you.”

Bellatrix’s eyes widened for a moment, evidently surprised at Hermione’s reply, then she turned away. She removed her hand, too, to start picking at her other one, and Hermione now seemed to feel the absence of the touch as acutely as she had felt its presence.

Hermione almost didn’t catch it, probably wouldn’t have had she not been listening, an utterance barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

They sat in silence for some more. It wasn’t exactly comfortable but it suited the mood just fine. When Bellatrix broke it once again, its remnants seemed to resonate.

“That’s the reason, you know.”

“The reason for what?” Hermione asked, startled.

“For why they cast you out. Because you care. You care not about what the world around you deems good and bad, but about what you deem good and bad yourself. About people. About justice.”

The woman gave a short laugh. “Shit, look at me getting all sweet and peachy, waxing poetic about morals and caring.” Hermione could see her profile and was not surprised at all that Bellatrix’s eyes were glistening. Her own ones weren’t, yet, but she supposed it all would hit her at some point in the near future.

“S’okay,” Hermione said. She didn’t elaborate but she could feel the other woman was grateful nonetheless.

Minutes passed in silence, as before, and it was surprisingly comforting to sit in an ever-darkening room, sharing a sofa with a supposedly insane criminal that had tortured her some weeks ago. To Hermione, their discussion had seemed much more real than her life did so far, and she didn’t want to dwell on the past. She didn’t want to dwell on the future, either.

She knew there was much to discuss—about herself, Bellatrix, their future plans. She knew that whatever route she had chosen those few hours ago, it wouldn’t be easy. But she didn’t want to think of it just yet. She wanted to spend the evening in long-sought peace, in the calm of silence and of the dark of the room around her. It seemed that Bellatrix shared her sentiment.

So they did just that.

**Author's Note:**

> So, in case it wasn't obvious from the writing, a short summary of what happened: Bellatrix didn't die in the final battle; at some point after it, the wizarding folks wanted to imprison/execute her without trial, Hermione started defending her right for justice, everyone else turned on her too so she grabbed Bella and Apparated them both away. Their location is left to your imagination, could be some Bella's hideout, could be Hermione's home, could be some random motel etc.
> 
> The ending is also left to your imagination, my only take on it is that they get a happily ever after, either as lovers or as friends. :)


End file.
